Family Matters
by ShyLikeThat
Summary: There were only 2 options left: either suck it up and accept Hiruma as the father of the fake baby, or go to jail wringing their teacher's neck. Either way, Mamori was sure she'd cry. You couldn't even fathom the complications of mothering HIS baby. M for language.
1. The Baby Project

-X-

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_**Family Matters**_

Disclaimer: Eyeshield 21 is by Riichiro Inagaki and Yusuke Murata.

Notes: Umm. Hey. I really like this fic, so I hope you do too C: It's a little long, but in my opinion, kind of worth it. Yep. You just keep on readin', okay? And don't stop till you drop!

Summary: There were only two options left. It was either sucking it up and pretending to be a happy family with their makeshift plastic baby, or blackmailing the Japanese government. Mamori almost wanted to cry. "Mushashi-kun, can't you switch w/ Hiruma, please?" HxM

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-X-

It was a very bad day for Mamori to have gotten sick and taken an absent at school today.

First off, it was obviously because a certain quarterback of the Deimon Devil Bats would raise hell about her missing a practice and a team meeting, but more so, it was because _that segment_ of Health had already come hurdling in (and rearing its ugly face) without her knowledge.

Where second year students cowered in fear of what horrendous tasks the teachers had prepared for them to do this semester—for each generation again and again, same as the day, time and month.

Family Living.

And Hiruma thought that taking Health would be a breeze, and he could just have spent the entire time there concocting strategic plays for the upcoming games. Well, maybe for the rest of the three hundred and forty-four days, but _oh no, _not on this particular one.

The first suspicious signs on how the whole thing fucking started were on a seemingly bright and normal day, while he and the rest of the class watched their gym teacher bring in two heavy loads of boxes, the quarterback's mouth chewing and popping a gum absentmindedly.

The teacher grunted stiffly as he labored over the boxes, and Hiruma's eyes ever so slightly flicked off of his laptop screen to find out what the hell their instructor was taking so long for, before staring back down to his own keyboard and resuming his work like nothing huge was happening.

And nothing was.

Or, at least, that was what the older man was trying to go for. God only knew how it was almost impossible, if not nerve-wracking, to try and slip something under the very nose of Youichi Hiruma. It was hard enough that he was already a slave probably being video-taped 24/7 by the same vicious bastard.

The moment the boy looked back down again, the gym teacher instantly took this great opportunity to kick the boxes underneath his desk like he was trying to imitate one of Mushashi's kicks. And then very quickly, he turned around to face the class, who weren't really paying much attention to his jittery behavior because this was pretty much how almost all of the teachers acted whenever the blond demon was present in their class.

(Some even went as far as to carry around a supply of holy water in their pockets.)

The grown man cleared his throat, trying to gain the class' attention. But he immediately started to sweat bullets when Hiruma looked up at him again, expectant.

Oh God. How could they even insist on him doing something like this?

The teacher swallowed a heavy lump and opened his mouth, though his tongue had failed him before he could even say anything. His hands felt clammy. He found himself staring at the quarterback's eyes and unable to look away until it was finally too late, like he was already proven guilty before the court had even been in session.

Oh _my God_. He couldn't do this, he couldn't do it. Only a person with suicidal thoughts should ever teach this class and even bring the project up. He very nearly wanted to wet his pants.

Hiruma's eyebrows furrowed when the teacher just continued to stare at him stupidly, like a deer caught in the headlights. His fingers twitched towards his gun. "_What?_" he finally snapped, only to have the man instantly break down, making sobbing noises.

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I-I didn't mean...! I-I tried to tell them not to do it, but they insisted! I just… I just…"

"Spit it out!" The blond quarterback growled.

The man immediately jumped at his words, a violent chill ripping through his spine as he finally gave up and complied to their dictator's commands.

Trembling uncontrollably, he squatted down and lifted one of the boxes he had painstakingly brought into the room earlier and heaved it on to the table, unfolding the flaps and tearing the tapes under the watchful scrutiny of his students.

No sooner, his hand suddenly reached down and produced a smiling, glassy-eyed baby, much to the utter horrification of the class.

"I-I didn't want to continue this," The teacher faintly spoke as he walked away from his desk and around the deathly-quiet, wide-eyed occupants of the room, displaying the plastic doll like it was Chucky. "B-but you're supposed to be the first class to start the… the baby project."

_The baby project._

The sentence echoed for more effect, as if every one of them had just been slapped with the frightening realization.

Of course, except for one.

'_Tac – tac – tac – tac – tac – tac – tac'_

The whole class turned to see the blond quarterback snort indignantly and resume his work on his laptop like nothing big had just taken place, and like the news wasn't even _at all_ that shocking.

The gym teacher watched the boy type into his laptop ordinarily, and then he felt a wave of anger crash through him. And to think that he had been ready to piss his pants out of fear for this indifferent, unconcerned _bastard_ of a student.

He took one brave step forwards and Hiruma's fingers faltered to continue typing as the teacher gripped his shoulders and forcefully thrust the baby plastic doll into the demon's unsuspecting hands.

Even though he already knew that he would probably be visited by Satan himself tonight, the man still continued to ignore the warning signs inside his head and gave the boy a hearty slap on the back.

The blood-curdling expression that tore through his face was just absolutely _priceless_.

With a few loose screws now rolling inside his head, the man beamed, joking, "Congratulations, Hiruma-kun! It's a girl!"

And all hell suddenly broke loose.

-X-

"Dear, are you sure you're fine enough to go to school today?" Mrs. Anezaki called worriedly, knocking on her daughter's bedroom door.

Mamori sneezed as if on cue, though she just shook her head and promptly shrugged the sickness off. "Yes, mom, I'll be fine." She gave a reassuring smile, and then took a couple of Kleenex out of the tissue box just in case.

"Well, alright…" Her mother's eyebrows creased, still a little worried. "Just call if anything strange happens, alright?"

"Alright," the auburn-haired girl murmured, then kissed her mother on the cheek before heading off to school.

The walk to Deimon High was unusually quiet and tense.

She didn't know what exactly transpired in her short leave, but it must've been really big. Only a few people bothered to greet each other, and even then the greeting itself seemed unenthusiastic.

She had tried to cheerfully say hello to the ones she knew, only to be given a rather strained smile and a heavy nod. And the weirdest sight that met her on the journey to their school was that most of the students in her grade had suddenly partnered up together, like it was some sort of mating ritual.

And the atmosphere in the second year floor was just terribly horrible, the air seeming to thicken quite considerably as her classmates not only walked together in pairs, but also held on to one another like their lives depended on it.

Now what on Earth happened to drastically change the environment in just a one-day absence?

Mamori saw one of her closest friends, Sara, skipping down the hallways quite light-heartedly despite the darkening environment. She immediately pulled the girl aside to talk.

"What happened? Did someone die?" Mamori's brow creased as she fervently hoped not.

Sara blinked at her in confusion before brightening up and shaking her head, her black hair swishing around.

"Oh, it's—" the girl paused and immediately inspected the hallway for any hidden cameras, then abruptly pulled the auburn-haired girl into a much more secure area. Namely: the girl's bathroom.

Because everybody knew who the control tower really was in Deimon High, and just how many damned hidden cameras he had running in this place. (Hint: Almost unlimited.) Even if he _was_ such an asshole, he wouldn't dare put one in the girl's bathroom… right?

"It's this project thing," Her friend sighed and leaned against the tiled wall. "We're supposed to like, take care of something or the other with another person, and it's just being listed today. It's got everybody worked up."

"Oh," Mamori muttered, tapping her chin as she mulled over what the black-haired girl had said. "You mean like an older sibling program?"

"Um… yeah, sure, whatever." Sara shrugged, then looked at Mamori more shadily, bringing the girl down to their knees and whispering. "But that's not important. The real problem is that all the classes in total have an even number of students, and someone _eventually_ has to end up with… with, well…" Sara gave her a meaningful look, which, as observant as Mamori was, she didn't really catch.

Her brow rose. "With…?"

"With… you know." Her friend paused as she regarded the thought with a more sinister voice. "With… thou shall not be named…"

"… the guy in Harry Potter?" Mamori tried, honestly not knowing what her friend was talking about.

"No! Augh, never mind. Just… just make sure you have a partner."

"Oh, that seems fine. Well, do you want to work together?"

Sara looked at Mamori apologetically. "No, I'm sorry, hon. I already have a partner."

The girl's eyebrows crinkled once again. "But I thought you said that it was just being listed today…"

"It is. But you get to choose whoever you want to work with and the teacher will list you two up together. And… well, I kind of planned ahead already."

"Oh…" Mamori paused, then simply shrugged. "Well, that's okay dear. Maybe next time. I'll just go ahead and ask another person."

Sara looked back at her guiltily, biting her lip, and Mamori could only laugh.

"It's not your fault, Sara. It's fine." The auburn-haired girl reassured, but before she could even go and turn away, her friend suddenly grabbed a hold of her hand and squeezed it tightly.

"Mamo, just make sure you find someone, okay?" She murmured uneasily.

"Okay," Mamori replied, not quite sure why her friend had looked at her with such concern. Though she gave a small smile and took the advice to heart.

As the day dragged on, Mamori had asked some of her other friends if they wanted to work together, but strangely enough, all the replies were the same. Almost everyone she knew already had partners, and some of them even already had their names listed up.

It was kind of bordering impossible to find anyone who was available, and Mamori was beginning to become hard-pressed. She had even resorted to ask random strangers around the school, and even went to Yukimitsu, Kurita, and a little awkwardly, to Mushashi. But they were all the same too. Which was getting really weird, and if anything, kind of annoying.

_Was it her?_ Was it because she was a bad partner? Or maybe because she was a little too late?

Although she wasn't even sure what the project was really about, nor any of the seemingly important details about it… and Sara hadn't even been much too clear about which was which, only having said that what mattered the most was the partners… and then nobody really told her anything else.

Come to think of it… why _did_ everyone seem to go out of their way just to get partners? Especially Sara, who even went and planned ahead, which was a little uncharacteristic for her. Some students even went as far as to make secret meetings the day before too, not caring if the partnership seemed a little off and slapdash.

Was it a "I'll have your back if you have my back" kind of thing, or was there a bigger picture that she was missing here?

Mamori thought deeply about what Sara had said to her in the girl's bathroom. _"But the real problem is that all the classes in total have an even number of students, and someone eventually has to end up with…"_

"… _with…?"_

"… _well, you know. Thou shall not be named."_

And then the auburn-haired girl's face suddenly brightened up. _Oh_. This makes perfect sense! She couldn't blame them really, all of this just for—

Mamori sneezed. _Ugh._ The realization process was quickly replaced with the growing sense of nausea. She groaned and sneezed again, immediately having to make a trip to the nurse's office. Then as time ticked by, she almost forgot about the whole ordeal.

-X-

The second day in Health class had finally taken place, and most of the students sat there with edgy apprehension, some darting nervous glances at the quarterback's way and at the trusty rifle slung at his shoulder.

_Oh God I hope I don't get him as my partner._

_Oh sweet Lord, please don't let him be my partner._

_Oh shit, what would I do if he was my partner?_

_Hiruma-kun would tear me to shreds._

_He'd surely throw the baby off of the second story window._

_And then me._

_And then he'd haul my ass up and the baby's and probably do it all over again._

_Oh Christ…_

This was some of the thoughts that the occupants in the room currently had, which mostly consisted of doing the cross and then begging for God to not let something as unmerciful as what they had imagined take place.

It was really quite awkward as they waited and fidgeted in their seats, jumping whenever the blond demon popped a bubble.

Especially the teacher, who Hiruma had been glaring at for the past five minutes. And the boy didn't blink much, which made it more terrifying.

The teacher, now having gained a broken arm and a possibly traumatized memory because of what happened the other day, went about the room and continued to pass out a bowl filled with scraps of paper that had everyone's name on it.

This class was not at liberty to choose their own partners as they pleased. Because a _certain _person was here, and nobody really wanted to admit that they'd rather have their tongues cut out or their eyes stabbed rather than to partner up with him, for fear of having to do both and then get shot all across Japan.

The student currently drawing a piece of paper out of the bowl closed his eyes tightly and _hoped _against hope that it the demon's name wouldn't be on it, opened his eyes, and then sighed in relief.

The teacher moved on to the next unlucky soul, trying hard not to meet Hiruma's eyes. It was as if they were in a murder trial, waiting for whatever destiny Fate had bestowed upon them.

It was actually a surprise that the quarterback had even agreed… or perhaps a better word to use would be "tolerated" the project ever since what happened yesterday. The broken arm of the teacher seemed to make things even for them.

And it wasn't like he _shot _the poor man. Actually, it went more like once the man realized what he'd just did; he literally almost broke his neck… or arm, trying to jump off of the building. Hiruma didn't even have to lift a finger.

But the silence that transpired was deadly, excruciating, and nerve-wracking, until that is the quarterback had began to laugh, and then the class quickly found out that they actually preferred the unbearable dot dot dot of said deadly silence rather than the demon's evil cackle.

Because Hiruma-kun laughing meant that something bad was supposed to happen.

"Kekeke," the blond chuckled lightly, giving the class a good stare as he fiddled with the plastic baby doll that was unceremoniously shoved in his face the day before. He seemed to have taken quite a liking to it, mostly in the form of him trying to pull its limbs apart.

"What's the matter?" he called, and they fidgeted. Hiruma's eyes fell at the grown man passing out the bowl, who in turn immediately tensed. "Hey, damn teacher, tell me again why this thing is so fuckin' important?"

"B-because…" the man stuttered, pointedly looking at the floor as he shuffled his feet. "I-if you fail this project… t-then, then you fail P.E, no matter what you do…"

"Is that so?" the boy questioned matter-of-factly, then grinned. "Well, after all, only a total idiot would fail P.E, right?" The quarterback surmised, and the teacher was already nodding in agreement before the last word even left his lips.

"A-and if you fail…" the man quickly added, under the intense gaze of the blond, "You… you h-have to watch birthing tapes…"

Hiruma quickly paused, and then deliberately scrunched his nose up. "That's kinda fucking disgusting… well, am I glad you told me, damn teacher." His grin widened, and he finally let the class go as they pleased, still squirming in the demon boy's very presence.

The blond continued to fiddle with the plastic baby doll, apparently being a little fixated at tearing off its legs. Then, to his great amusement, he accidentally succeeded in ripping off the head, to the distraught screams of the people surrounding him.

He stared at the glassy-eyed, smiling object as it stared back at him inanimately.

And that was when Mamori had gently slid open the door and came into the room, then almost passed out when she saw a seemingly real decapitated infant head in the quarterback's hand.

She _almost _passed out. Almost. But not quite. Much to her _utter utter _horrified expression.

The girl just about wanted to throw up as she felt another wave of nausea wash through her mind. Though Mamori wasted no time and immediately dashed to the baby's rescue, very nearly slapping the quarterback and ripping it out of his hands before holding the detached head and the small body to her chest.

"What… what…" she began, panic-stricken, and then looked at him hysterically. "_Oh my God!_ You killed a baby! What kind of person— what kind of _monster_ would kill a— a—"

"—it's not real—" he cut off, annoyed.

"—would kill a non-real baby—_what?_" Mamori gasped as she stared at him, her heart racing frantically.

"I said it's not fucking real. Look, it's not even fucking bleeding."

Mamori swallowed as she glanced down at the child, and there it was, thankfully, still smiling up at her emotionlessly.

She put a hand to her rapidly beating heart and sighed in relief. "Oh… _oh, _oh my gosh. That was close." She murmured, and then quietly began to laugh at herself.

"Fucking hell, damn manager." Hiruma shouted all of a sudden, grinning widely. "You're fucking going _crazy!_ You sure you took your meds this morning?"

"Oh very funny, Hiruma-kun," The girl snapped as she gave him an acidic look, still clutching to the plastic doll protectively. She found out that she couldn't quite let go of it yet.

The teacher approached her and held up the bowl filled with the scraps of paper, to which Mamori simply raised an eyebrow to.

"We're doing a project… the baby…?" The man gestured to the toy she was holding tightly, finding it a little bit easier to talk ever since the girl had entered the room.

It was like the entire incident served as an ice-breaker.

Mamori felt herself blush in embarrassment, lately seeming unable to say anything smart except for 'oh'. "Oh," she mumbled, then cursed herself once again. "Um, of course." The girl murmured, finally getting the hang of things.

"So we're supposed to take care of this baby, hmm? And this is the drawing for the partners?" Mamori questioned as she reached in to the bowl and took out a scrap piece of paper.

Her lips immediately pressed together.

"Fucking damned man whoever gets paired up with a crazy person like— oh." Hiruma paused too once the teacher (very reluctantly) approached him, and he reached down into the bowl to pull out a name. "Fucking hell." He muttered simply

They read each other's names out loud, and Mamori felt her body grow cold. The room broke out into a wild cheer.

"Fuckin' redraw!" The blond suddenly growled, but all of the students had already run out of their seats to snatch the remaining (safe) pieces of paper. "You damn _brats!_" He hollered, his finger just a mere inch away from his heavily loaded rifle.

"I- I can't be paired up with a baby-murderer!" Mamori protested alongside Hiruma, though she knew it was already too late. She found herself giving up too quickly, burying her face into her hands. "He just killed the baby… can we get another one?"

"Sure." The teacher murmured, giving her a pitying look. But it really was for the best.

Mamori sneezed once the baby was handed out to her, and Hiruma glanced at her disgustingly.

"Gross, fucking manager. Learn your damn manners."

Chapter End.

-X-

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**I'm sorry if the length bothers you**. But I just can't write a story without it being like… overly lengthy xDD I hoped it was good though, and **even if it was long, I hope you still want to read more.**

**So, if you do, please please please don't hesitate to review. It keeps my world spinning. C:**

**Alert and review, please, if you want this story to continue** (and not end up in the many dejected pile bins that I have xDD)

EXCLUSIVELY NEXT CHAPTER: The baby didn't even _make _it to the blond quarterback's top 30 most important things. Though when a bet suddenly took place, he had excused that even devils learned to like... freaky baby doll plastic things. Whatever the fuck it was.

Mamori snorted. He didn't even _use_ it's proper name, often giving it random nicknames instead.

The list includes:

.Damn Baby  
.Fucking Tater Tot  
.The little shit  
.(What other people secretly refer to him as) The spawn of Satan.  
.And the most commonly used: The thing

"Hey, fucking manager. Get the thing for me." (She would usually mistake this for any other damn object in the room)


	2. Lesson 1: People talk than is necessary

_**Family Matters**_

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-X-

The baby that the teacher had pulled out from the box was a boy.

The class watched in anticipation as he gave it to them. The plastic doll would be the unofficial white flag that would soon end this Mating War, and the symbol that declared Hiruma as safely taken, and that they could now breathe in relief without having to worry about their partners rigging up a bomb inside their assigned baby's chest.

Once she took it, there would be no backing out. Either she took it, or risk failing. She had to, no matter how horrifyingly unstable their compatibility was, and no matter how unhealthy and violent their relationship would be, _she just had to, dammit_.

No doubt, she might soon quickly realize the dire mistake she had made and try to draw back out of the partnership, and if she did that, _hell would ensue. _Again.

They would be left with so much of a clusterfuck that they would only be a little surprised if Mamori put up a fight to get the baby out of her hands, and they couldn't blame her of it, because well... the situation _was_ that distressing.

Though, she was the only person in their class... _grade, _who could compensate with the blond quarterback's random antics of creating havoc and shit-storms, and the only one who actually cared enough to send cards and apology letters after.

So they watched with great intent, and fervently _hoped_ to God, she would accept it with grace and pressured resignation.

Mamori tried not to drop the baby as soon as it was handed to her. She stared at its eyes, suddenly not knowing whether she should embrace it in all its adorable glory or throw it out the window, screaming.

The auburn-haired girl snapped herself out of her reverie, shocked from her own thoughts. Instead, she forced a smile. A very obvious, pained one, but nonetheless, a smile. The whole class sighed in relief, wiping the sweat of their brows.

_Shit_. That was close. Truthfully, they expected some sort of carnage to happen out of the situation, namely in the form of the box of fake infants exploding, or the baby in the auburn-haired girl's hand, and then eventually her own arm.

The class discreetly switched their views to Hiruma, who was picking his nails, and then to Mamori, waiting for the inevitable slap-shock to hit her like a ton of bricks, and for the mortifying realization of what she had just done to enter her features.

There was a pause as the girl just sort of stood there, and finally thanked the teacher, unknowing what else to do.

A cry of shock and amazement broke throughout the classroom. Clearly, she was out of her mind. And so very, very _very, _dearly,self-sacrificing.

_Really, now._ Mamori thought as she sighed depressingly over her classmates' habit of blowing things out of proportion. It wasn't that big of a deal; it was just a classroom project. It wasn't like they had actually gone out and, and did _it_, you know, and had a baby, because... because well, they were partially right. This was _Hiruma_ they were talking about, and _her_.

The 'son' wasn't even _a son_-- it was just a plastic baby doll for a Health project, and. And, she immediately wanted to claw her eyes out just thinking about it.

They were still in high school, for Pete's sake. Too young and seventeen and students and it _really _wasn't that much of a big deal. It wasn't like it was _true_, anyway, you know. They were only pretending. There was no way they would do, _even discuss_, _that_ together.

And, and _even if it was real_—like if the world had suddenly ended and they were the last two surviving people on Earth, and she had gone insane and decided to marry him, or. Or become 'lovers', since the idea of marrying the blond was just preposterous-- they still wouldn't go out and do _it_.

'It' was the term. And they wouldn't do _it_. Even if the human race depended on them. _They would not do it_.

They would instead adopt… a… a cheetah, or a jaguar, or whatever. Even an alien baby, but they would not reproduce.

She didn't want something like _his_ traits mixing in with her future child's gene pool, and God knew that the world didn't need a second Hiruma Youichi, AKA the boy who grew up in the very spitfires of hell, walking around unsolicited in their planet.

And what was worse, if it would happen, then she would be out-numbered. Two Tasmanian devils set loose, totting guns, and one miserable woman trying to hold onto the last of her sanity. It was unfair.

Who in their right minds would even want to give birth to the blond demon's child? For all they knew, the baby wouldn't even need giving birth to. It'd just claw its way out of her stomach and pop out with an indignant curse and his father's signature "YA-HA!" and the doctors and nurses would be too frightened to cut the umbilical cord, so the blond quarterback would have to do it and _of course _he'd resort to shooting her bloody stomach.

So, it was decided. They _would not do it_, ever ever ever, so there was no need to freak out. Which she wasn't doing.

They sat back down in their seats, Mamori holding the plastic doll on her lap when she noticed that Hiruma had been glaring at her for the last few minutes.

"What?" She finally asked, a little irritated due to the hellish thoughts her mind had came up with earlier. It seemed that 'Hell' and 'Hiruma' were now synonyms in her brain, but weren't they always?

The boy had immediately scowled. "Are you stalking me, damn manager?"

"What?" Her eyes crinkled. "I _sit_ here, Hiruma."

"Why the fuck do you have to sit so close?"

"I don't know," Mamori made a face. "You're making it sound like it's my fault."

"Probably is. You rigged the seating charts, didn't you?" He sneered.

Mamori scoffed. "What would I gain from seating next to you?"

"The answers from yesterday's test." Hiruma smirked, and turned back around to face the glowing screen of his laptop before she could protest; though his eyes couldn't help but stray on the plastic doll again as he did so, and he suddenly let out an almost garbled sound.

"Fucking hell." Hiruma snapped. "Damn manager, don't hold the thing like that!"

"Like what?" Mamori inquired, staring at his twisted expression with a bit of confusion. Did he mean that she should hold it properly? The girl shifted the baby on her lap, repositioning it so that she was now carrying it in her arms.

Hiruma's eye twitched a little. Just a little, before he re-composed himself. "Nothing."

"Oh... okay." Mamori said skeptically, now wondering why the quarterback hadn't even dismissed the idea of the project, though somehow felt that she already knew the answer to the question and so never asked. _It's not a big deal._

-X-

She was instantly tackled into a hug by Sara after the locker exchange between their electives.

Apparently, the story of her being the 'spawner of the demon' had already spread like wildfire to almost half of the second-year students.

It was only because they took Health during the same period, which provided an easier access for the gossips to pass, and because some brave bastard out there managed to escape a certain notorious student's hidden cameras, and still had enough courage left in her or him to risk spilling the most outrageous gossip ever to grace Deimon's halls.

It was quite outstanding, actually.

The only other story that probably had a chance of topping it off of being the most ridiculous rumor _ever_, was if a tornado broke out in the middle of the school hallways and killed Hiruma.

Captivating as the idea may sound, though, it would never happen. Not because the story was so preposterously inane (like, come on, a _tornado? _Why not a hurricane?), but because Hiruma couldn't just be killed by a simple tornado. Oh no. You had to sever all of the limbs first and burn the body, to make sure that he wouldn't ever come back.

Thankfully, most of the rumors hadn't reach the first-years yet, though the third years were catching on pretty quickly, having quite the eccentric juniors running around. However, it wouldn't be long before Hiruma himself finally heard the rumors, saved whatever ass-kicker he's got in his laptop, and raise hell all over the school.

The grounds would crack, revealing a swirling black hole at the bottom, which was supposed to be hell, and thunder and lightning would crackle outside the school's grounds threateningly.

He would then probably take the baby, the bane of all the gossip, and throw it off of the edge of the swirling black hole as a sacrifice, and Anezaki, being the saintly person that she was, would probably risk her life saving the baby and die in the end, God pity her.

These were only some of the latest gossip the students of Deimon had conjured up in the scarce forty-five minutes of their next elective, after they had heard that Hiruma, now subjected as the Deimon-Serial-Baby-Killer (adding another name to his lists of nicknames) was partnering up with her for the project.

Mamori was a little more than horrified when she heard of this.

Ako, her glasses-wearing friend, could only snort as they made their way down their classroom for lunch. "Well, what do you expect, Mamo? It's Hiruma's baby. _You're_ the 'mother' of his child." She made air quotations.

Mamori buried her face deep between her fingers. "Adoptive." She sighed. "I'm the _adoptive_ mother of Hiruma-kun's _adopted _child. And please don't say it like that."

"Well, okay, but that still doesn't change the fact that you're 'adoptive parents' together," the pony-tailed girl sniffed.

Mamori's head snapped up. "Who says we're together?"

"Who says you are?" Ako countered questioningly, giving her a suspicious eyebrow-lift. Mamori sighed again, rubbing her face tiredly.

"Oh God." Sara had instantly erupted at their left, features scrunching at a sudden thought. "Remember when he blew up the girl's locker room and sent some poor kid to fetch you?"

"Sena. It was Sena." Mamori muttered helpfully. "And he kept his eyes closed all the way through."

"Oh yeah, I remember. I was only half-way dressed during that time." Ako commented blankly. Sarah made strangling gestures beside her. "My locker was reduced to a heap of metal junk! I had to be moved all the way back with the laundry!"

"And here I was hoping that our kids could have a play-date," Ako sighed, shaking her head disappointingly. "But imagine how much of a playground bully your kid's gonna grow up to be."

"None of my children will be playground bullies, I assure you." Mamori tried to sound very sure of this, though her resolve came out broken like her voice. "And you forgot to mix in some of my traits with the baby's. I'm sure it'd be all right." She tried once more, feebly.

"It wouldn't work." Ako crossed her arms. "Manga statistics show that evil genes are pre-dominant over good ones. Haven't you ever seen the movies?"

"And, _God_, it even looks a little like him." Sara blurted, nose crinkling.

Mamori's eyes widened, horrified. "Sara!"

"Yes, Sara, don't just drop it on poor Mamo like that. Even if it is, slightly true."

-X-

The auburn-haired girl fidgeted a little as she bit her lip, staring at the plastic baby in her hand intensely. Her eyes wavered.

It does _not_ look like him, she decided finally, consoling herself. Mamori shut her eyes for a split second before opening them back up again. See? It looks perfectly normal. It's fine. The baby's adorable. Sara was just one to blurt random things.

The baby stared back at her, unconvinced, like how Hiruma usually stared at her. Mamori had to turn another way so she wouldn't suddenly burst out crying.

She couldn't blame the terrorized looks she'd been getting all around the halls, as people paused opening their lockers and stared at her piteously, shaking their heads.

They all probably wondered if what the rumors said would come true, and, looking at the bewildered face of the demon spawn's mother, soon started wondering when she'd crack.

That poor, saintly girl had to be with him, of all people, and had to be burdened by his child, of all things, while the mad man just ran around laughing and knocked up more girls in his wake.

This was becoming more and more like those tragic, Shakespearean plays; the ones where the girls died in the end (though it was absolutely no Romeo and Juliet).

They felt utterly sorry for her, being paired up with a demonic monstrosity like him. It was like a sheep being mated with a wolf. Next thing you know, she would be trapped by his claws, and what the rumors predicted all along would come true.

The girl would be forced to chew her own leg just to get out of the horrid relationship, though it would already be too late.

He would've gotten her, and pulled off some sort of heinous, evil stunt, commit breaking and entering, and the axeman would've been too scared to even do anything to stop him, and eventually, when she came, he would immediately pounce on her and rip open her ribcage and eat her heart raw, just the way his mom probably made it when he was still a kid.

Mamori smiled sheepishly at her schoolmates sudden, almost shell-shocked faces. Judging from the petrified expressions they now wore, the rumors must've been getting more and more exaggerated.

There was a familiar pop of a bubblegum.

Mamori turned around just in time to see Hiruma standing behind her.

_Oh._

He stared at them, and somebody must've fainted, assuming from the resounding 'thud' that echoed throughout the once bustling, but now eerily quiet, hallway.

It must've been frightening to talk about a certain pointy-eared quarterback and suddenly have him appear before you, like a fucking invisible lightning had just struck in the middle of the hallway and brought him there. They should've expected as much.

The students held their breaths, waiting as they anticipated the interactions between demon, spawn, and spawn-reproducer to play in front of them, because you really couldn't call a family like that simply as father, mother, and child.

To say the least, they were a little disappointed as they expected there to be some sort of battle between Heaven and hell, mostly in the form of Hiruma finally getting stabbed with a pointed cross and combusting into flames, while Mamori held the baby victoriously.

The former only had to shift his rifle onto his other shoulder, and immediately, the students turned away.

Mamori glanced to her right, staring at the dissipating crowd as they forcedly returned back to their everyday tasks unperturbed, or as unperturbed as one could be with Hiruma present and the constant wariness of getting shot ever conscious in their minds. She looked back at the blond.

"I was just on my way to the clubhouse," Mamori said, pleasantly thinking to herself that the baby didn't even look anything alike to its supposed adoptive father. Sara had been delusional.

Hiruma shrugged, seeming too disinterested about it. As he was with all school activities, per usual. "Walkin' with you, then." He said simply.

Seeing the demon, spawn, and spawn reproducer walking somewhat together, though, was still a shocking thing all by itself.

"Without Hiruma grabbing the baby and eating it, that is."

-X-

Mushashi quietly slid the door to the American Football Clubhouse open and gruffly stepped inside, Kurita trailing behind him.

"Oh?" He said suddenly, eyebrows lifting a bit, his features shifting to express rare surprise and growing amusement.

He stared at the baby sitting at the roulette table, and then to the blond quarterback busily typing at his laptop. He found it a little strange and uncharacteristic that Hiruma had even agreed to the whole baby project thing, much less actually bring it over with him to football practice.

Unless, you know, he planned on using it as a football. Or target practice for his marksmanship. But hey, maybe the blond had some nice, unusual fatherly tendencies once in a while.

"Uh. Hiruma...?" Kurita called hesitantly, also having noticed the presence of the plastic baby doll.

"I didn't know you were like that," Mushashi remarked as he sat down opposite their quarterback.

The blond barely glanced at him. "I'm not."

"Why'd you bring that plastic toy with you, then?"

"Why don't you have yours?" Hiruma countered easily, now looking up at them.

"I asked my partner if she could watch over it after school, since I knew it would've been a hindrance to you. But I never expected you to actually--" The kicker paused, noticing the slight twitch of their manager's shoulder at the corner of his eyes, "-- bring yours over here." A wide, almost scandalous grin broke out unto his face. "Oh my God, the rumors are true?"

"Which one?" Hiruma produced a gum and popped it into his mouth. "The part where I was stabbed with a cross, sacrifice the little shit, or where the damn manager over there ends up chewing off her own foot?"

"... you've heard them all?"

"I made up the one with her dying in the end."

"Wha-!" Mamori looked over at them, face shocked. She gritted her teeth, clenching her fists from the rising temptation of throwing a coffee mug over at a certain blond's head. "Hiruma!"

"Now, now, mother." He spoke, grinning despite himself. "We can't have violence in front of the baby. Kekeke."

Chapter End.

-X-

* * *

Sorry for some mistakes. I've gone over this chapter like two-hundred times now, and really, I'm getting sick and pissed off re-reading it over and over again.

**Just please PM if you spot any grammar mistake, and I'll edit it.** C:

**And also, sorry for the very very very long wait. I just hope you guys still remember this little 'ol story.** And I realize that I didn't do the things listed in the last chapter, but that was what kept me from updating. I promise I will still do them, though. C:

_**Alert and review!**_ **It fuels me, and my ability to go off track on the main point of the story to write humorous side notes!** C:

* * *

-X-

_**EXCLUSIVELY NEXT CHAPTER:**_

Mamori woke up in a cold sweat.

Oh _God_. She just had a dream that she was married to...

To...

… ...

To _Hiruma._

She shuddered violently, feeling cold, uneasy chills rampaging up and down her spine.

Oh, _the humanity_. The pure adulterated horror. People should really wear chastity belts nowadays, especially with maniacs like _him _running wild.


End file.
